as more than an occasional visitor, a dashing male who brought me treats and offered to babysit Maddie so I could play in the garden. Despite my desire to please him, I’d heeded Harper’s warnings. Though Father’s gifts appeared innocent, Harper had known, long before my childish heart, that Archer’s motives were anything but pure.
Shivering, I let Harper brace my elbow as I entered the sled’s oven-warm interior. I took a seat on the right, so I faced forward. Sometimes my stomach held less enthusiasm than I did.
Harper sat opposite me. His long legs stretched so our knees touched. “Do you mind?”
“I guess not.” The contact seemed harmless enough.
“Good.” Dillon climbed in and sat beside Harper. He slouched down and rested his boots on the seat beside me, legs crossed, hands folded across his midriff, more comfortable than us.
“Make yourself at home.” I scooted closer to the wall and farther from him.
He jerked up his pant leg, exposing pale skin and a gash sewn closed by crooked stitches. “I guess your ‘ take care of you’ speech ended with Harper.” He winced as he dropped his leg.
After his stunt in the garden, I should let him hurt. He deserved it. “Put it back.”
“No thanks.” He shifted, squinting out the window. I bent down, grabbed his ankle and lifted. “What are you doing?” He twisted, but I was stronger. He acquiesced before he got hurt.
“Saving you from walking with a limp.” I dug around in the small bag slung around my hip. I’d brought ointment for Harper, but like it or not, Dillon’s wound showed angry red edges. “This is an infection waiting to happen.” I touched the deepest part with my finger, and yellow liquid seeped out. “I spoke too soon.” I applied the mash of herbs as quick as possible.
He locked his jaw and gazed through the glass while I played healer.
“You know bacteria thrive in sand.” I wiped my hand on a napkin, tucking the square away in case I could use it later. “You have two healers and neither thought to clean this?”
“They’re both young, both in training, and both doing the best they can,” Harper said. “We don’t have access to the same resources you do. Few will brave the tents or mines unless they’re working in them. We don’t have city amenities to lure qualified healers from town.”
He made good points. From what I knew, all the miners lived in tents. All the communal resources were also housed in tents. Only the stable and medical center used brick in their walls. With so few resources and no entertainment, it amazed me how the colony thrived. How content Harper’s colonists were. Though I knew from experience that ex-slaves held low expectations.
“I’ll see what I can do.” If I drafted a grant and Nesvia signed off on it, they could begin construction of permanent dwellings. Nothing said home like four walls and a roof. The colonists deserved a sense of permanence, but I understood the delay. Construction costs at the colony probably prohibited all but the necessary improvements. Not to mention location considerations.
“Thank you.” Harper twisted in his seat.
Every building and road in Askara’s desert climes rested on magically reinforced framework. Otherwise, they were eroded or buried during winter, when sandstorms hit hardest.
That type of magic required frequent reapplication. Most cities paid a master spell crafter to live within their walls. Crafters celebrated a level of status on par with nobility. It was a rare talent to bend personal glamour, twist that root of magic until it engulfed and performed a task beyond its intended scope. The city of Feriana employed one because it housed the vernal castle. Otherwise the budding community on its outskirts would have blown away within weeks.
“Is your back hurting?” A husky tone crept into my voice. Two days spent with Harper weakened my resolve until thoughts of denying this thing between us turned brittle. Sex, if we indulged,
Shivering, I let Harper brace my elbow as I entered the sled’s oven-warm interior. I took a seat on the right, so I faced forward. Sometimes my stomach held less enthusiasm than I did.
Harper sat opposite me. His long legs stretched so our knees touched. “Do you mind?”
“I guess not.” The contact seemed harmless enough.
“Good.” Dillon climbed in and sat beside Harper. He slouched down and rested his boots on the seat beside me, legs crossed, hands folded across his midriff, more comfortable than us.
“Make yourself at home.” I scooted closer to the wall and farther from him.
He jerked up his pant leg, exposing pale skin and a gash sewn closed by crooked stitches. “I guess your ‘ take care of you’ speech ended with Harper.” He winced as he dropped his leg.
After his stunt in the garden, I should let him hurt. He deserved it. “Put it back.”
“No thanks.” He shifted, squinting out the window. I bent down, grabbed his ankle and lifted. “What are you doing?” He twisted, but I was stronger. He acquiesced before he got hurt.
“Saving you from walking with a limp.” I dug around in the small bag slung around my hip. I’d brought ointment for Harper, but like it or not, Dillon’s wound showed angry red edges. “This is an infection waiting to happen.” I touched the deepest part with my finger, and yellow liquid seeped out. “I spoke too soon.” I applied the mash of herbs as quick as possible.
He locked his jaw and gazed through the glass while I played healer.
“You know bacteria thrive in sand.” I wiped my hand on a napkin, tucking the square away in case I could use it later. “You have two healers and neither thought to clean this?”
“They’re both young, both in training, and both doing the best they can,” Harper said. “We don’t have access to the same resources you do. Few will brave the tents or mines unless they’re working in them. We don’t have city amenities to lure qualified healers from town.”
He made good points. From what I knew, all the miners lived in tents. All the communal resources were also housed in tents. Only the stable and medical center used brick in their walls. With so few resources and no entertainment, it amazed me how the colony thrived. How content Harper’s colonists were. Though I knew from experience that ex-slaves held low expectations.
“I’ll see what I can do.” If I drafted a grant and Nesvia signed off on it, they could begin construction of permanent dwellings. Nothing said home like four walls and a roof. The colonists deserved a sense of permanence, but I understood the delay. Construction costs at the colony probably prohibited all but the necessary improvements. Not to mention location considerations.
“Thank you.” Harper twisted in his seat.
Every building and road in Askara’s desert climes rested on magically reinforced framework. Otherwise, they were eroded or buried during winter, when sandstorms hit hardest.
That type of magic required frequent reapplication. Most cities paid a master spell crafter to live within their walls. Crafters celebrated a level of status on par with nobility. It was a rare talent to bend personal glamour, twist that root of magic until it engulfed and performed a task beyond its intended scope. The city of Feriana employed one because it housed the vernal castle. Otherwise the budding community on its outskirts would have blown away within weeks.
“Is your back hurting?” A husky tone crept into my voice. Two days spent with Harper weakened my resolve until thoughts of denying this thing between us turned brittle. Sex, if we indulged,
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